


Forgive Ourselves

by cinnabongene



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode s4e1: Smoke, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 20:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15614853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnabongene/pseuds/cinnabongene
Summary: After the events of Smoke, Kim makes Jimmy go apologize to Howard. Jimmy gets more out of the deal than he bargained for.





	Forgive Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for s4 e1!

“Howard… I’m really sorry about him. He didn’t mean what he said. He’s just…”

“It’s okay. I understand,” said Howard, that far-away teary expression still etched into his features. 

“I’ll go talk to him, get him to apologize,” said Kim, standing up to go fetch Jimmy from where he had retreated to their bedroom.

“No. I… I should go,” said Howard. 

“Stay, if you want to,” Kim insisted. “You shouldn’t have to drive home like this.” 

“No. I really should go,” said Howard, standing up, never once looking Kim in the eye. “Thanks, Kim. Take care of him, okay?”

That was four days ago. 

“I just got a call from the firm,” said Kim, putting down the phone. “They haven’t heard anything from Howard all week. They wanted to see if we’d heard anything.” 

“And what? You think I’ve been having secret midnight chats with him?” asked Jimmy, not looking up from the coffee maker. 

“I think you need to talk to him,” said Kim. 

“When did I become his keeper?” 

“You really hurt him, Jimmy. You should have seen him after you left. I never thought I’d see Howard like that. You need to go apologize. You need to make sure he’s okay,” said Kim. 

Jimmy was quiet, staring into his mug. 

“Jimmy, look at me dammit!” 

He looked up. 

“Today,” said Kim. 

Jimmy sighed. “Fine. It’s not like he’d even answer the door for me anyway.” 

 

Jimmy sighed and surreptitiously glanced around Howard’s property as he waited for any sign that his ring of the doorbell would be answered. He’d wait thirty seconds, ring it one more time, then leave. That should be enough for him to fulfill his duty and be able to tell Kim that he tried. 

No signs of life from inside. He rang the bell again. Just as he was about to turn and call it quits, he heard the sound of someone tripping over their own feet from inside, followed by the click of a deadbolt opening, then Howard appeared in the half-open doorway. 

For a brief moment Jimmy wondered if he had the wrong house. He’d never seen Howard like this before: hair disheveled, four days of stubble, dark circles under his eyes bloodshot eyes, wearing nothing but boxers and a hastily thrown on bathrobe. “Jimmy?” he asked, voice rough from disuse. 

“Howard,” said the other man. 

“What… what is it?” Howard asked, squinting against the sunlight. 

“I… wanted to… talk,” said Jimmy, hating the way the words felt in his mouth. 

“Oh. Come… in,” said Howard stepping backwards to hold the door open. 

Jimmy tried not to stare as he walked inside. The house was as nice as he had imagined it, the shelves lined with books, and Howard’s various degrees and achievement awards framed on the walls. 

It was clear where the man had been spending most of his time the past few days. Empty take-out boxes and crumpled tissues littered the floor around the couch. A nearly empty bottle of whiskey sat in a water ring stain on the coffee table. 

“Sorry for the mess,” said Howard, kicking some of the trash aside so Jimmy would have a clear path to the couch. 

“It’s… alright,” said Jimmy. 

“Sit,” Howard insisted. Jimmy did as he was asked, and Howard took his seat in the armchair across from him. “What did you want to… talk about?” Howard asked, staring at an inconsequential spot on the wall. 

Jimmy took in a breath. “I shouldn’t have said what I said before.” 

Howard let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, but it didn’t help ease the weight on his chest. “It’s okay, Jimmy. We’re all hurting.” 

“You were right, though,” said Jimmy, quietly, to the floor. 

Howard turned to face him. “Huh?” 

“Chuck knew what he was doing with those lanterns. No matter how bad he had gotten, he wouldn’t make a mistake like that.” Silence choked the room for seconds that felt like eternities. “But it wasn’t you,” Jimmy concluded. 

Howard furrowed his brow, but before he could speak, Jimmy carried on. 

“It was me.” He tried not to let Howard hear the tremor in his voice. Fuck. He hadn’t cried all week. He wasn’t going to start now. Not like this. “Before… I told him this would happen. I didn’t mean it, but I told him one of those lanterns was gonna…” Fuck, his cheeks were wet. 

Howard stood up and took a jerky, hesitant step toward Jimmy, his hand floundering in the air before landing on the other man’s arm. “Jimmy. It’s not your fault. It’s… it’s no one’s fault. I know it’s hard not to place blame anywhere, and I know I still blame myself no matter how much I try not to. But please, you have to try with me, Jimmy. There’s nothing we could have done. We have to try to forgive ourselves.”

Howard felt Jimmy tremble underneath his hand, then heard a barely concealed choked sob. He sat down next to the man and put his other hand on his shoulder, trying to ground them both as much as he could. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You have to let yourself grieve,” said Howard. 

Jimmy shook his head. It wasn’t okay. But it was happening anyway. He was powerless to stop himself from breaking down sobbing in front of Howard Hamlin. 

Jimmy didn’t know how long they sat like that. He didn’t know when Howard’s hand stopped resting on his arm and moved to grip his own hand. He didn’t know how long it took for him to finally be able to stop the tears and stop the pathetic noises coming from his throat. It was only when he finally looked up, that he saw Howard had been crying too. Howard let go of his hand to offer him a tissue.

After they’d dried their eyes, Jimmy’s hand stayed open, like a silent invitation. Howard reached out and took it again. He knew he shouldn’t, but grief and sleep-deprivation had teamed up to make him starved for human connection, to make him think that just maybe Jimmy would be okay with this. 

Jimmy looked down at their joined hands, at the ring on Howard’s left ring finger, then let his gaze shift around the room. No sign of anyone living here but Howard. No sign of a woman’s touch. No sign that anyone had bothered to check in on the man. “You’re not actually married, are you?” Jimmy asked, voice raw from crying. 

Howard shook his head. “I was always too afraid to tell him,” he murmured. 

“That you’re a Bachelor?” Jimmy asked.

“That I’m gay,” said Howard. “And now he’ll never know.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, he probably knew,” said Jimmy with shrug. “Chuck’s a smart guy.” 

Howard quirked a half smile. “You’re certainly right about that much.” 

Jimmy looked back to their hands, then slowly let his gaze drift up the line of Howard’s body, right to his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, both carefully calculating, before leaning in and allowing their lips to meet. 

It was quieting, peaceful. Like the calm at the eye of a storm. But only for a moment. 

Howard stood up and ran his hands over his face. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Jimmy. I shouldn’t have— Oh, God.” 

“Howard, Howard. Sit down. It’s fine,” said Jimmy. 

“But Kim—”

“—And I have no problem with each other seeing other people. As long as we tell each other about it. And boy is she gonna hear about this,” said Jimmy with a half chuckle. 

Howard felt his cheeks turning red as he sank back down to the couch. “Oh, God. That’s somehow almost worse.” 

Jimmy put his hand on Howard’s knee. “Come on. We need to get you out of this place and into the sunlight. How about a cup of coffee?”

“If, uh, we’re going to do anything about this, Jimmy, we need to be careful and take it slow. We’re both still grieving. I don’t want anything to happen that we might regret,” said Howard. 

“Keep it in your pants, Howard. It’s just coffee,” said Jimmy. “Not that you’re, uh, wearing any pants.” 

Howard looked down and quickly tied his bathrobe closed, too late to stop Jimmy from noticing the bulge of arousal in his boxers. “I’ll, uh, go get dressed,” he said before scrambling upstairs. 

Jimmy sat on the couch and rested his forehead on the palms of his hands, letting out a deep sigh. “Oh, Chuck. What have I gotten myself into?”


End file.
